


The Arnold Murder Club

by Sarah_von_Krolock



Series: Brave New World [4]
Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Espionage, F/M, Historical Characters - Freeform, I don´t see Ben-A-Dick as a major character, Murder, Rated M ´cause better safe than sorry, Treason, he might die or not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2018-12-20 17:50:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 15,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11926080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah_von_Krolock/pseuds/Sarah_von_Krolock
Summary: - On Wednesday we wear pink - Reinette_de_la_Saintonge and I agree that the whole Arnold arc is complete bonkers anyway and that the best they could have done to get rid of him, would have been to get Simcoe into the boat called "Get in looser, we´re killing General Arnold". Let´s be honest, with his priority to trade and loot instead of war and throwing away gun powder to make space for tabacco he signed his own death sentence.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Reinette_de_la_Saintonge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reinette_de_la_Saintonge/gifts).



_"Tsk, tsk, tsk..."_  
The blood freezes in her veins. Her whole body freezes in shock as she could feel the barrel of a pistol against the back of her head. Hearing at the same time that significant sing-song voice. She holds her breath, it feels like her heart stops beating. The disbelief and shock in her mistress´ eyes and the fear on the face of her son are making it even worse.  
"Ready to knock down a pregnant woman with a candlestick, Miss Abigail? How very rude and uncouth of you. Have you been taught that at the Strong household? If you would now be kind enough to please lower the candlestick... very good. And now slowly turn around."  
She does as he tells her to, slowly turning around and handing the Lieutenant-Colonel the candlestick. She goes over to her son after being signaled to do so.  
"Colonel..." Peggy is surprised, her eyes wandering between all in the room. "What... I am sorry, but my husband has left moments ago."  
Without haste he puts the candlestick back onto the drawer. "The same husband you just agreed to plot against and murder him, Mrs. Arnold?" Her whole body tenses, it´s easy to see, the colour leaves her cheeks. With the failed attempt to get rid of Hewlett once and for all, he thought it might be worth, the idea to tell the Spy Hunter General of this incapable coward and that he knows about the mole, even if it would mean that he himself wouldn´t have the pleasure to kill him on his own. He found the door not properly closed, heard the quarrel inside and stepped in.  
"I," she stammers, "You misunderstand, Sir. I..."  
"Lets us be honest, should we? It is a virtue that became too rare these days." The pistol goes back where it belongs. "Won´t you like to sit down in your current state, Mrs. Arnold? With all that... excitement, we don´t want anything to happen to you, hm?" He himself takes a seat in an armchair, crossing his legs. "A tea would be nice, Miss Abigail. I guess there are a few things that need to be discussed. You stay," he says as Cicero wants to follow his mother, is signed to sit down and doing so. "Are you doing well, Mrs. Arnold?"  
"You know very well how I am doing, John." Her look stern and not leaving him for a second.  
He smiles with her becoming personal, obviously now that they don´t need to keep up the facade.  
"I thought Lizzie keeps you informed."  
"And she does it very good, Peggy. Are you alright or should I sent for her?"  
"No need to. I am well."  
He nods, turning his head to the door." And don´t try to poison the tea, Miss Abigail, I´ll let your son drinking it first," he shouts. With a smile he turns his head back. "It was obvious that you have your quarrels with your husband as you stayed for two days at our current home three weeks ago and cried your eyes out at her shoulder. But that they run so deep that you would plot to murder him... _tsk, tsk, tsk..._ "  
"And what are you doing now? Telling him? Blackmailing me?" She may be his wives´ best friend, but he still is Colonel John Graves Simcoe and his sense of justice is so strong, he could have studied law, she thinks.  
"You think that low of me, Peggy? Blackmailing? Bringing a pregnant woman to the gallows because that´s what happens with wives who try to murder their husbands. Of course they would wait until you gave birth... you disappoint me, Peggy. Thank you," he lifts his gaze with a smile as Abigail returns with a tray, putting it down onto the table and pouring tea for everyone. He takes a cup together with the saucer, leaning back and taking a sip. "And now we really should talk about a few certain things, therefore that we all agree on the term that General Benedict Arnold needs to die."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historical!Simcoe indeed almost studied law when he wouldn´t have enlisted for the British Army.


	2. Chapter 2

Speechless describes her current state best. The Colonel would be the last one she would have thought of to... no. Thinking about it, it´s not a surprise to her. Not that he is willing to kill someone, by far not that. It also does not surprise her that he plots the murder of a superior officer who is a threat to King and Crown. Not with Colonel Simcoe, who hates incompetence more than anything else. It too isn´t a surprise that he is ready to kill her husband. This is the last thing that would surprise her. She wonders if, and if yes, how often Lizzie already asked him to, begged him to, do something to help her dear friend out of this misery. Somehow she feared, yes she actually feared, she would do so the last time she cried out her sorrows at her shoulder. Mostly because it was not the first time that she stayed two or three days at her place, avoiding her husband by any chance. That she carries his child was always saving her from any dispute or being dragged home by him again. She would need rest, any excitement would be hurtful for the child, she needs female support in her current state, her moods would disturb him in his work anyway. The last time Lizzie didn´t even asked what has happened or who made her crying. She simply asked ´What has he done now?` And she could swear that the look she gave the Colonel was the look of a woman who would kill a man in ice cold blood because he dared to hurt her friend. She really is a true friend. She knows no one else amongst her friends who would kill for her without hesitation. And she knows, she is sure, that she would do the same if John would ever mistread her friend.  
"Abigail wants to because he put her son's life at risk. You also know my reason. But what do you have for a motive?"  
"He is a fool, stupid, incompetent. He would have never been promoted to General in the British Army. It could have been only possible under Washington. He is a coward and a traitor. Who says he wouldn´t betray the crown when someone crosses his way and offers him better conditions? He is selfish. A good leader is not selfish. My father taught me that a good leader never asks of his subordinates to do things he wouldn´t do himself. Has he ever done for you anything you have done for him, young gentleman?"  
"No, Sir," replies Cicero with hesitation, unsure of the whole situation. All he wants is to learn to read and to write and that his mother is proud of him and suddenly he is in the middle of a plot of espionage and murder. Major André only taught him to read and write and asked at the most to deliver a message or two. That was peaceful times. Major André was always nice to him and his mother...  
"And you, Peggy?" He takes again a sip, putting the cup down onto the saucer and both onto the table. "Has he ever done for you what he asks you to do for him?"  
"I am not his subordinate," she spits with poison in her voice and daggers in her eyes. Jealousy flashes up within her. Jealousy of her friend. Like with her it is Lizzie that brings in the money into the marriage, they have a similar relationship here. But compared to her, Peggy, John is treating her friend like a wife, like a lover, like a friend. He treats her equal. He treats her like he loves her. He doesn't yell at her, he is not using her like a breeding mare. He is not using her at all. She was denied to have the same happiness in life.  
"Does he knows this too?"  
His smile tells her that he knows very well that Benedict doesn´t know that she is not one of his subordinates.  
"I thought so." Relaxed he leans back. "Now back to the reason why we all gathered here."  
"We gathered here because I confronted Cicero that I caught him talking with this Private Woodhull about kidnapping and murdering my husband."  
"Private Woodhull?"  
It seems like his face brightens up.  
"Woodhull talked with you, young Gentleman?"  
"Yes, Sir."  
"About kidnapping and murdering General Arnold?"  
"Y-yes, Sir."  
That little cabbage farmer... "Forget Woodhull. It´s hard to believe, but he is more incompetent than Arnold. He also tried to kill me several times. I feel pretty alive. If you tell Woodhull any of this here, Cicero, you are going to follow the path of General Arnold. Are we on terms?"  
Abigail pulled her son closer by the words of the Colonel.  
"The same goes for you, Miss Abigail. Don´t think I woudn´t know that you are still in contact with Mrs. Strong and now probably also with Mr. Woodhull. I have no proof but my conscious tells me so and it rarely fooled me. It is way easier that the corpse of a simple maid disappears than the one of a General. But don´t worry, I know exactly how to do it."  
No one in the room doubts the Colonel for a single second.  
"Would you ask Akinbode to help you," Abigail asks and can´t stop her voice from trembling. Now Colonel, Simcoe always had something threatening about him, the voice, the eyes, even his smile was always threatening.  
"I feel insulted, Miss Abigail."  
He really looks slightly offended.  
"I may kill and torture, but I am not a cruel man. He is loyal, a good man, fulfilling his duties to my complete satisfaction. I wouldn´t punish him for the crimes other did. But enough chattering. Let us go back to the main topic."  
In exact that moment a carriage was to be heard outside.  
"Or not," he murmurs, rising from his seat and turning a last time towards the others. "No word about what has been spoken here, to no one. We´ll discuss further action tomorrow at five. You´ll visit my wife, Peggy. Take Abigail and Cicero with you. If he asks, you´ll need their help, both, to carry the gifts we have for you and the child." He turns around, taking his hat he put on the drawer as he entered and goes to the door. Hearing steps coming closer, Abigail rushes past him, opening the door. It was really the General that was back already now. Simcoe turns around, playing to be blind concerning the General. "Until tomorrow for tea, then, Mrs. Arnold. We both would be delighted by your presence. Oh, good evening, General Arnold."  
"Good evening, Colonel Simcoe." He is irritated, looking from the Colonel to his wive and back. At this hour of the evening... "What..."  
"I was just bringing your lovely and humble wife and invitation from my lovely and humble wife."  
"And... this had to be right now?"  
"You know how wives are, General," he smiles, "they don´t like to wait and if they have to wait we are the ones to be punished for it."  
A low and little laugh leaves the General. "That´s true, Colonel."  
"Good evening, General," Simcoe nods, putting on his hat.  
"Good evening, Colonel."  
"And good evening to you, Mrs. Arnold."  
"Good evening, John." Peggy had stepped to the door. "And greetings to Lizzie."  
"I won´t forget it." With buoyant steps the Colonel walks down the small path that leads to the road, turning left.  
Only as he´s out of sight, Benedict Arnold turns at his wife. "An invitation, at this hour?"  
"Of course. You should know by now how impatient my friend can be." She steps aside to let him in. Abigail closes the door while her son takes the hat and coat of the General. "I need Abigail and Cicero tomorrow when I visit Lizzie."  
"No."  
She follows him into the drawing room. "I need them. They have gifts for me and the child. Abigail can´t carry all alone. Or do you want me to carry these?"  
He stops and throws a glance at her, the eyes wandering to her swollen belly. "Alright. Only tomorrow. As an exception."  
"Of course as an exception. Thank you," she brings herself to say. She can´t wait to see the life leaving those eyes that are always looking at her as if she´s a piece of juicy meat. Maybe it was the best that could happen that John stumbled into the situation. No matter what he ever had done, but he is a man that stays true to his words. Benedict is going to die. This way or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historical it was indeed Elizabeth Gwillim who brought in a not really small family fortune into the marriage. It was enough to live a nice life without troubles. 
> 
> Captain John Simcoe wrote down 19 maximes to his, back then two, surviving son(s), a few years before he died, calling these "Rules for your Conduct" to help his son(s) to stay on their path and grow into fine gentleman and militair leaders, knowing he might not live long enough as a naval officer to do so in person. One of these rules was that ´that the one who doesn´t learn to obey, could never become a qualified commander` and ´that an officer should never order an inferior to perform any task he could not do himself`.


	3. Chapter 3

"Just to make it clear... You invited Peggy for today."  
"Yes."  
"In company of her maid and her son."  
"Yes."  
"Telling the General we had a gift for Peggy and her child."  
"Yes."  
"And that´s why we now need to buy a gift in a hurry so that your meeting to plot his murder doesn´t get blown when she returns without a gift?"  
"Yes," he sighs. With his wife on his arm Colonel John Grave Simcoe walks down the streets of New York City in the desperate search of a gift for their friend. Maybe a simple invitation for tea would have been the easiest, but a gift had a bigger urgency to explain his presence to deliver said invitation at the late hour of yesterday evening. From time to time a nod or a polite smile is given away for faces they know. Since he took over the command of the Queen´s Rangers and more even since he married his dear Lizzie, he, they, are invited regularly to dances, suppers and tea. He learned to know more people with names and influence and she taught him the power of gossip and rumors. He knows the fate of men like him when a war is won or lost. Politics. His father would have done it and his father. Her godfather will do so and her father would have done the same. If their service for war is no longer needed, then politics is the only path they can walk until the King declares war again. And with that fate that awaits him one day for sure, he is not naive enough to think that the King could fight wars for all eternity, the treasury will be empty at one point, he thought early that it can´t harm to know a few certain names and that a few certain people know his name. One hand washes the other, it always goes like this.  
"Alright. Count me in."  
Casual like always. He wouldn´t have expected anything different from her, Especially not in the case of murdering the vile husband of her best friend. With a hand on the lapel of his coat she pulls him down while she goes on tiptoes at the same time, whispering into his ear.  
"Can I hurt him at least once? Pretty please?"  
For passersby it might look as if she begs him in the most sweet and loviest way to buy her those shoes in the display window, she wants so much and would just be perfect for the next dance they are invited to.  
"How can I say no to such a lovely plea," he smiles and earns a kiss that lingers for a moment. He enjoys it to share and show those little signs of affection in public with her, now as a married couple. No dancing around, no reading between lines, no hiding, finally more than holding her hand for a moment to blow a kiss onto it for a welcome and a goodbye. He admits, it´s partly because he likes to show and demonstrates whose wife she is. Partly it´s also because to show how damn lucky he is that it was this fine woman who decided, who chose, to marry him. And the last part is because he simply can´t resist those sweet lips.   
They continue their walk until she stops and turning him towards a display window. "Look at this! This would be perfect! Sure, two rolls of wool for the little one to make cute little dresses would be easier, but let´s be honest, everybody can give away fabric as a present. But this!"  
"A rocking horse."  
"That´s special! And it´s heavy and big enough to excuse the presence of two servants to carry it."  
He grins at her. "I hope you do know that I not only married you for your heart and gorgeous look but also for your inteligence?"  
"Can´t say the same for you," she looks up, "It´s really only the good looks with you."  
He laughs lowly, pulling her to his chest and pressing a kiss onto her lips. There is another part. She makes him laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rocking horses already existed in ancient Greece. The Rocking horse how we know it probably was inventend in the USA in the 17th century and only arrived again in modern europe through england in the 19th century.


	4. Chapter 4

"I want one of these too when we´re lucky enough one day."  
"A rocking horse or a child?"  
Elizabeth rolls her eyes with a smirk. Currently busy with fixing a bow around the wooden neck of the toy, placed the toy onto a table for better display. "Both." She lets her eyes resting on her husband, the smirk gets coquettish. "Though I already have a rocking horse on my own."  
"Mrs. Lieutenant-Colonel Simcoe," he grins, slowly striding towards her, it is obvious, readable from his face how much he enjoys to call her this, "are you implying that I am your very own rocking horse?"  
"I never imply, Sir. I only state simple facts." She turns around, hands resting on her waist.  
"Me? A Colonel of the British Army? A brave soldier who fights for his almighty, glorious King? The Commander of the Queen´s Rangers that´s been named to honour our gracious Queen? That keeps towns, cities and whole tracts of land save and free from those nasty patriots?"  
"Yes."  
He stops in front of her, hands on his back, bending slightly down. "Alright. But a ride costs you."  
"Say the price, I´ll pay everything.."  
"A kiss," he whispers.  
"A mere kiss?"  
He nods, leaning his head to one side, bending a bit more towards her. Their lips almost touch, yet he keeps the smile on his face. The eyes wandering to her lips, her eyes and back to the lips.  
"When it´s nothing more," she breathes, closing the distance. With closed eyes she sighs against his lips. It only needs a few seconds and she feels his hands on her waist, followed by his arms holding her close. With her own hands on his shoulders, he deepens the kiss. As her fingers are gliding into his hair, she suddenly feels the edge of the table against the back of her thighs. She giggles. Her fingers in his hair are like an instant magic spell. A moment later she feels the hard, wooden plate of the table underneath her buttocks. Another giggle follows his action.  
His hands fumbling with the hem of her skirts, quickly the kisses grow in urgency, less innocent. A small growl escapes his lips as she wraps her legs around his hips, pulling him closer. His finger stopping from tracing these upwards at the little bows that are keeping her stockings in place. By god, how much he adores the sight of her in these and the thought of it alone lets him losing his patience and decency. Thumbs stroking in a delicious slow pace over the ribbons of silk, savouring the feeling of the fabric, his fingers barely touching her bare skin. Kisses are spread over delicate skin, sweet, little bites following these.  
A shiver runs down her spine. Feeling him so close, feeling the heat of his body through her dress, inhaling his scent… His scent alone can make her dizzy. The whole combination, his scent, to feel the texture of his hair between her fingers, the warmth of his body and his lips spoiling her neck and the fingers - A high pitched sound escapes her, a hot, tingling wave rushes through her body. He makes her forgetting where they actually are. She gasps and lays her head into her neck.  
The hot, impatient sensation within him becomes stronger with every moment that passes. Another growl with her fingers grabbing firmly his hair, increasing the lust within him. Her little sounds of want and need, so pure in her lust, making his self control slowly fading.  
"John..."  
"You paid for that ride, my love," he breathes, "and I´m a man of honour. I pay my debts." Bringing his face close to hers; she opens her eyes as she feels his breath on her skin. For a brief moment they only look into each other’s eyes before he swallows her moan with a kiss, opens his breeches with haste. It always feels like pure bliss, to be connected with her in this way, when they become one and she welcomes him with sweet sighs and little moans. When she holds onto him and the well-known tight knot grows in his guts. When they love each other slow and sweet and their panting breath is the only sound filling the room. Those moments when she pulls at his hair, expressing her need and increasing his own. Lost completely in the frenzy haze, when her lovely sounds become more delicious and bringing him to the edge.  
Little kisses he distributes over her cheek and chin, leaning his temple against hers. The peaceful quiescent, the bliss of the aftermath. When she simply holds him and he holds her, gaining their breaths and clearing their minds again.  
"Way better... than a rocking horse," she pants.  
He chuckles. "Thank you for the compliment."  
"Kisses are the payment, you say?"  
He draws his head slightly back to look at her. The expression of satisfaction on her face, he admits it, fills him a bit with pride. "Kisses of yours, yes."  
Putting one hand onto his cheek, she kisses him once, twice, three, four times until he has to break from her lips for he can´t hold his back his laughter anymore.  
"We keep that for later, yes, my love? Now we should bring ourselves into a representable shape again. What should our friend think otherwise? It´s almost five."  
"We are just very dutiful in the matters of the connubialities. Is it not my duty to give you sons?"  
"And daughters?"  
"And daughters. For that we have to try again and again and again and again. I won´t get pregnant from talking alone."  
He smirks at her. "You only use it as a pretence." He strokes down her skirts, smoothing these after he fixed his breeches and while she fixes his shirt and waistcoat, binding his cravat.  
"A pretence to get you to sleep with me? I don´t need a pretence to get you to do so," she grins cheekily, placing a kiss onto his cheek. "You are not as irresistible as you think you are."  
He grins with bold poise. "Looks different when I put on my uniform."  
"Then I am wearing stockings."  
"That is a little bit unfair."  
"Just like your uniform."  
They smile at each other and laughing lowly, sharing again small kisses.


	5. Chapter 5

As soon as Margaret Arnold, Peggy for her friends, stepped over the threshold she is locked in a tight embrace. That sort of an embrace that says how very happy the one giving her that hug is to see her, to hold her in her arms, who loves her for the human being she is and tells of how deep their friendship runs that she was terrible missed even that it was just a week ago that they sat together for tea. That sort of an embrace she will never receive from her husband. Not now and not ever. Especially not since the Philomena disaster and her hate and disgust for him lies open like the raw flesh of a wound.  
That embrace feels good and does her so good, she wonders if her friend even knows. Probably, for as the embrace ends her dear friend is not leaving her side for a second. She is pulled in more, the cape taken from her and even as her husband is greeting her, dear Lizzie still keeps a hand onto her back. Leading her into the parlour she is sat down onto a low couch where she can sit more comfortably with her belly, a pillow is put behind her back.  
"Do you need another pillow? Is it too warm or too cold for you? Darling, would you be so kind to heating up the fireplace?"  
"No, no, there is really no need to, I am very comfortable, thank you."  
"Are you sure? Do you want a tea? Or a hot chocolate? Mary-Ann! Two hot chocolates, please. What about cake or a sandwich? You look a little pale, my dear. Are you feeling well? Do you eat enough? You still have this terrible morning sickness?" Elizabeth sat down next to her friend, linking her arm with hers, while John sat down in an armchair opposite to them, signing Abigail and Cicero to join them.  
She can´t hold back a giggle and throwing a short gaze at her friend´s husband, she sees an amused look on his face too. "I am not quite sure who of us will be a mother soon. At least you already act so overwhelming caringly like one." For a brief moment she thinks to see a mix of shock and surprise on her friend's face before she smiles again.  
"Well, who else should do it if not me?" The General? Never. He only knows spoiling with jewelry, dresses or maybe new curtains for the drawing room when he´s generous. "Be glad that at least someone cares for you and spoils you, enjoy it as long as it last. Soon you´re going to be the one caring and spoiling."  
"I don´t know why you are complaining."  
Both women turn their heads towards the Colonel.  
"I don´t mind being spoiled and intensively cared for by her."  
"Oh, please... spare me the details,", sighs Peggy while he laughs lowly.  
"John! Really... be serious." The scolding of his wife sounds only half heartily.  
"I am serious, my love. I really don´t mind."  
She gives him a cheeky smile and before she could come up with a reply, her maid brings the merry group tea and the sweet, delicious drink her mistress likes so much. "Thank you, Mary-Ann."  
Immediately Peggy is handed a cup with the liquid chocolate. She admits, she hasn´t fancied it at all until she met Lizzie and especially since she´s with child she strangely got a big appetite for the sweet drink.  
"So," Lizzie starts after the first sip, "how do we kill the General?"  
So casual that it´s on the edge of being ice cold while enjoying a hot chocolate with a smile as sweet as the drink in her cup. This woman truly fits to the Colonel, as unbelievable as it sounds that he might find someone who would suit him. Mrs. Simcoe is no stranger to Abigail but she never experienced her as private as now. At the General's house... she always seemed to hold back, tensed. Well, everybody is holding back around the General and is tensed.  
"I would say poison is too obvious and it´s too female. Our kind likes to use poison, history taught us. So the link would lead immediately to Peggy as his wife. Particularly that it´s no secret their marriage is a little bit troubled."  
"This young gentleman here told me that Privat Woodhull..."  
"Privat Woodhull?!"  
"Yes, _that_ Woodhull, my love, was about plotting to kidnap the General and further to kill him. Tough a kidnapping is difficult to organise through all participating need an alibi for the time of the kidnapping happens. Poison, just as you said, my moon and stars, is unwise through the circumstances, as is shooting and stabbing in his sleep. All three ways would lead to the wife or the staff, the only ones that could come closer to him in his sleep. I would like to simply shoot or stab him, first his kind threw our tea into the Boston harbour and now he drowns our gunpowder into the waters of New York. He is a greedy and selfish moron, completely unfit for a man in his position, he cares as little for destroying the spy ring as he cares for his wife. Money is the only thing he cares for."  
Lizzie puts her cup down, leaning back with her head resting on the shoulder of her friend. "He needs to die slowly and painfully... Every breath he takes should set him into a colourful composition of pain. That kind of pain that makes him praying to die. No one is harming a dear one of mine and will die peacefully."  
"We need to find a way where you can still hit him. I promised you that and as a man of honour I keep my promises. You can take my bayonet if you like to."  
"You would really give me your bayonet?"  
"Of course, my love."  
"That´s so sweet of you," Elizabeth sigh with a love strucked smile. "Oh! Can Peggy stab him once with it too?"  
"Of course she can," he nods.  
A small laughter fills the room and Peggy looks from one to the other. She has a lot of friends. Her father´s money and her pretty face were always drawing people towards her like the flame the moth. True friends... a true friend was never among them. But finally she sits amongst those, amongst people who love her, true friends, people she feels loved by. People who always make her forget the nightmare of her marriage for a few hours. She puts her cup down, placing her hand onto her friends arm and leaning her head against hers. 

"A rocking horse."  
"Yes. You stated the obvious."  
"Is there really a need of a rocking horse?"  
"Yes. There is a need of a rocking horse. I wanted one, exactly this one. I pointed it out casually as we were strolling around the city weeks ago and saw it in a display window. Amazing that she still remembered it." Her eyes are shooting venomous daggers at the one who can´t remember what she said two hours ago. "John was kind enough to offer that it will be accustomed with wheels once the child is big enough."  
"John?"  
She watches him flipping through papers. "Yes. You know him as Lieutenant-Colonel Simcoe. But I have the privilege to call him John. You pay so little attention to your surroundings, I wonder how you could ever survive the war so far. Good night." Without waiting a response of his she turns on her heels and takes the stairs upwards to the bedroom. She can´t wait to see him taking is last breath.


	6. Chapter 6

She rests one arm on his stomach, her head lying on it and the fingertips of her other hand using the skin of his upper arm like a canvas. He himself was playing with her hair until his fingers became sloppy and telling her that he´s barely awake. The oil lamp still burns and softly enlightens their bedroom. Their body heat is enough to keep them warm beneath the blanket.   
"How about we rethink the choice of poison..."  
"Hm?" He fought with himself to open his eyes and looking at her. Currently it´s just too tempting simply falling asleep. He feels warm and comfortable, peaceful, even with her weight on top of him. It is just too tempting right now to doze off into sleep.  
"I mean... there are some kinds, taking in very tiny doses, over a long time... with symptoms that seem as if he just simply..." She shrugs with her shoulders. "Was addicted to alcoholic beverages. Or that look as if he had a disease that affected the stomach?"  
"You know, my love... I don´t fear any battle, I don´t even fear death. I laugh with a serrated blade holding against my throat. Torture? It tickled, but nothing more. But you... You are a whole different level, my dear." And still he would take every cup of hemlock from her delicate fingers and drink it in one draught. In her arms is still the only place where he can find peace and most of all can find sleep without being troubled. He is actually the one who should give her the feeling of being secured, of being safe and sound, protected. That as long as she stays in his arms nothing in this world could harm her. He wonders if she knows that this is exactly how he feels resting in her embrace. Like nothing worse can happen as long as he rests in her embrace.  
She grins up to him. "I am speaking of the leaves and berries from the yew tree. They are causing a bleeding." She rises a bit up, supporting herself onto her elbow. "Dizziness, a feeling of being unwell, a numbness. But the oil of the savin is less dangerous in dosing than the yew. Still a single drop can make the difference between alive and suffering and instant death. It affects the inner organs, causing heavy bleeding, cramps."  
He looks in question at her. "I wonder why you know such things."  
A smile grows on her lips that silently tells him that this is not the only secret knowledge she possesses. "It´s used as medicine since forever," another shrug with her shoulders, "It´s taken to... get rid of a fruit of love that´s unwanted. It´s taught every girl. Every mother, maid and nurse knows of the savin and its effect." She´s aware of his gaze. Question, suspicion, a little fear. "Before you ask, I never had a reason to take use of it. There are other things to prevent taking it." With a coy smile she crawls a bit up, lying down again and putting a finger onto his lips to keep him silent as she saw that he wants to reply. "My dear, my heart and soul... of course I know such things," she chirps, "What do you think might have happened, back then, me sixteen and unmarried, if our... summer of joy would have had consequences? First I needed to prevent and second I needed to know what to do if... well," she chuckles, "if you had been stronger than all provisions together?"  
He joins into her little laugh, appeased now. On one hand, he feels uneasy, a bit disappointed even, with the thought she might have had to... get rid of something he left behind. On the other hand, he can completely understand and wouldn´t mind at all. It would have been about her reputation. It´s always the female reputation that is stained with blood and mud. "And," his fingers gliding through her hair, twisting a strand of it around a finger, "if these are causing such effect on women, than what is it doing exactly with men?"  
"Speaking of the savin it´s aggressive towards the stomach and kidney. He will have cramps. He will bleed. He will cough it up, he´ll throw it up, he could water the plants with it. It will be very unpleasant for him. Giving it to him, saying... for a certain amount of time, in tiny doses, he will slowly become distressed by the constant pain. He won´t sleep anymore. He won´t have a single moment of peace. He will become pale like a bedsheet. He will loose so much blood, his body will barely be able to come up with more. He will lose his appetite, he won´t concentrate anymore, he will only wait for the next moment he can take a deep breath and his body isn´t shaking in pain."  
He observes every single feature of her face, gliding with the back of his hand down from her temple to her cheek. Such lovingly features. And such a brilliant mind. He puts his hand into her neck, pulling her down. "I love you," he breathes against her lips, "my moon and stars."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything about the yew tree is in fact poisonous. There are a few cases in history where the leaves and berries of the yew were used for an abortion and were causing in the death of the women. One would bleed, feel generally unwell, dizzy and numb.
> 
> The oil of a savin, even rubbed in on the skin, is as poisonous as the yew and used since the middle ages as a ´medicine´ for abortions. It´s affecting the stomach lining and kidneys, causing therefore a bleeding that can lead with women to an abortion.


	7. Chapter 7

"I would like to say that I am surprised but I am not."  
"About his invitation?" The Colonel shrugs his shoulders, leading his wife at his arm. He in his full attire and she in a lovely composition that suits his uniform. A bright white and a dark green with small black and silver decorations to resemble him. She commissioned it months ago and likes to wear it mostly for dinners and teas when her friend and her husband are also attending. Just to annoy him incredibly, to rub it in his face how blessed she is in her marriage, how devoted she is to her husband, and how lucky her groom can be to have such a wife. To show him all the things he will never have in his marriage. A wide grin spreads across his face as he looks at her while they´re strolling down the streets. The evening is still pleasantly warm and it´s only a walk of at the most half an hour, so they dismissed a carriage. Also, he likes to show off with her at his side, it´s way more satisfying than hiding in a carriage. Though a carriage still has its pros and those are not limited for the ride from one place to another alone.  
"I know he does so only out of spite, maybe wants to boast around, as a retort for the rocking horse and in front of you as a General. Showing off his possessions and riches, showing us what for a splendid merchant, he is."  
"The merchant of York City," murmurs the Colonel.  
"He seems to be a man who likes to show who is in charge."  
"He never was and never will be in charge." He looks as if he crossed something nasty that would stain his white waistcoat. "Clinton and Cornwallis are giving the orders. He is only the spyhunter General. It´s a joke just like his whole unit. Everybody is laughing about him, only he doesn´t get the joke. He doesn´t realize he´s been only giving that rank for his betrayal and the attempt of selling Fort West Point to us. His men were only worth him 20.000 pound sterling... he would have sold them all. What for a General would sell his men? You are loyal to your men and they are loyal to you. Making your point clear with a little bit violence is ordinary, but fear alone leads to mistrust, hate, bitterness and in the end to a revolt. Like that they would sell ones head faster than one can count to three. And Money? We are soldiers, not mercenaries. Mercenaries would only work for whoever pays them most. But respect your men, fight along with them in the first line, do your best for them, and they would never dare to think to betray you. It´s beyond my imagination how he could even climb up the rank of a General. They say, after the battle of Saratoga, he had been deposed of his command."  
"I see, you are in a good mood and listened well to my lesson about gossip," she smiles up to him.  
"My love, seriously... Anyone who would consider allowing Woodhull into his unit, lacks of common sense. A wonder he didn´t stabbed himself by accidentally stepping onto a pitchfork..."  
She giggles, tightening the grip onto his arm. "Maybe you are lucky and he accidentally shoots himself."  
"I am completely convinced he´s capable of doing so," he sighs. "If everybody is allowed into the army nowadays, it will be our downfall. Especially with people like Arnold."  
"When you´re in such a good mood, then let me be extra sweet to you tonight," she grins, rising on tip toes and placing a kiss onto his cheek, placating him with it again.  
"You want to drive him up the wall," he asks amused.  
"Let´s see how far I can bring him with my ´modern, french tongue that doesn´t a suit a woman in her position", she impersonates said General.  
He chuckles lowly. "You really make a good impression of him."

The Colonel got the privilege to sit right next to the charming Mrs. Arnold, who feels quite safe next to Colonel Simcoe, while his wife had the unfortunate luck to have a place reserved next to the General. Surrounded by charming beauties. Surrounded by money.  
"I have to admit, I think of it very funny, Sir."  
In confusion the General looks at Elizabeth and Simcoe pities that man a little bit. When a woman says `I think of it as very funny` she definitely does not think of it as very funny.  
With a charming smile she continues. "First you fought for those who drowned our tea in Boston and now you are drowning our gunpowder. Old habits die hard they say, am I right," she laughs shortly, taking another bite. Her husband watches her with a wide smile.  
"And where did you get that information," he pauses a moment, looking as if he was thinking, "Lizzie?" A short spiteful smile is thrown at his wife. His smile at his wife's best friend is forced, clenching the glass between his fingers a little bit tighter.  
"He told me," Elizabeth replies, gesturing at her very own husband and dabbing her lips with a napkin and putting it onto the table as she is finished.  
"You talk with your wife about military affairs?" He turns his head at the Colonel.  
"Of course," he answers casually, taking a sip from his drink, sounding like he wonders how in gods name his opposite could even ask this question. "With whom else should I do so at home? The wallpaper? We don´t have any secrets from one another. In a good marriage, both parties are working hand in hand, a relationship is based on trust and honesty. Despite that," he smirks, " she doesn´t need me to get her hands onto military affairs."  
"You think the tongue of a woman is a wise place for secrets of the British Army?"  
"Oh, indeed. I haven´t seen a woman being hanged so far for espionage. Though I don´t know how it had been underneath General Washington. At least on the British side, I haven´t seen a woman being hanged for such a crime so far. Either our secrets are very safe with them or they are the better spies."  
"At least I never attempted to sell my own kind for a few pounds."  
The General snaps his head at his guest. A ´Lizzie!` is hissed by Peggy.  
"Maybe General Judas would suit you more. I don´t how you work on the other side, but in the British Army, the Navy, you start first as a simple soldier, a mere sailor, and work your way up the ranks. My father earned the rank of Admiral and never forgot his days as simple sailor."  
He laughs. He has the impudence to laugh. "Of course you have a grudge against me. You are the friend of my wife. And we all know she is very good at manipulating people," he growls at looks at Peggy.  
As she grabs the spoon so hard that her knuckles become white beneath her skin he tries to touch her foot with his beneath the table, to distract her gaze. He is successful and his glare that tells her that she can´t kill him with a spoon at this very moment has its effect on her too. She takes a deep breath and slowly lets go of the spoon.  
Even Abigail became obviously aware of it that silverware is unwise to be kept around Mrs. Simcoe right now and together with her son, she clears the table for all spoons, knives and forks and plates.  
"You should keep a close watch on her tongue, John." Arnold continues to laugh.  
"Oh, I like her tongue just as it is, Benedict." If his pronunciation of the name sounds a little bit strange, he blames it on his ´posh` british accent the General still can´t handle properly. "If you know what I mean."  
She knows that smile of him. Rigid as if carved in marble. As if he is shortly about to throw himself onto him and suffocate him with own cravat.  
The General laughs again and lifts his glas. "To the skilful tongue of women!"  
"Come, Peggy." Elizabeth stands up from her place. "When our men are talking already about such things, it is time for us to retreat."  
Like his good education taught him, John rises too, helping Peggy onto her feet while her own husband thinks it is his good right to stay seated with the excuse of his old wound.  
Hopefully it won´t be his only one, Elizabeth thinks as she gives her John a kiss onto the cheek and takes Peggy´s arm, leaving for the drawing room.


	8. Chapter 8

In the parlour she sits down with Peggy onto a sofa, sure that the General is busy with annoying her husband, she also waves Abigail closer. "We are going for the poison option," she whispers.  
"But we discussed it, it would lead right away to..."  
"Savin."  
Peggy stays silent, looking in question at her friend and Abigail raises her voice. "Savin? But it´s used for..."  
"Getting rid of something unwanted. Is this not a perfect description?" Elizabeth smiles at the other two women and takes out a small vial from her decollete. Every woman can almost hide everything in her decollete and no man will ever have an inkling. She takes the hand of her friend and placing the vial in the open palm, closing her friends´ fingers around them. It was easy to get it. Everything concerning to provide an unwanted fruit and getting rid of it is easy to get. It was always like this and will always be like this. "It will be a slow process, yes, but one that won´t be suspicious. A single drop. In his tea, his drink, his food, whatever you prefer. He´ll cramp, thinking he ate something foul first. He´ll start to cough and throw up blood the more he consumes of it, the cramps will get worse. He´ll become pale like a ghost. It will get so bad that he´ll pray for a moment where he can take a deep breath without being troubled by pain. The doctor will think he got a disease. No man on earth will think another one was poisoned with savin. A female medicine. Think of the ultimate humiliation, he, defeated by female medicine," she grins.  
Magically a grin is put onto Peggy´s face.  
"Pause a single day in between and use a single drop of yew berry juice. It won´t make him bleeding, but makes him feel dizzy and numb, strenghtening the inkling that it might be a disease." She takes another vial, this time, out of her sleeve and handing it Abigail, containing enough juice that it makes at the most three drops.  
"It indeed takes its time," starts Peggy.  
"But, just like John said, a kidnapping and murdering right away brings the complication of an alibi for everyone. I am a great actor, but the best friend or wife or husband is always in doubt. Of course we would speak in favour of the putative murderer, we swore loyalty to him or her at one point. But if he dies after a long period of sickness and disease..."  
"No one can be blamed just the unlucky circumstances," smiles Peggy in the sweetest smile that rested on her face for a long time. 

With a blank face he stares at him and tries to concentrate on the spoken words, but the more he tries, the harder it is for him. It´s not only the voice or the face alone. It is the person in a whole that is annoying him. How he talks about himself in the most flattering way, as if the British Army can be lucky to have him now, as if the British Army never before saw such a fine Gentleman and skilled General.  
It´s disgusting. He lacks everything a Gentleman needs for qualities just like he lacks of all abilities a General needs to command an army. He´ll never be a Francis Drake, never be compared to John Churchill, and not even close to Wallenstein. He´ll be at the most a very cheap copy of Henry VIII. Puffy, lazy, ignorant, thinking of himself as an actual gift to the female society, only living for beautiful girls and money.  
By god, only that cabbage farmer is toping his amount of disgust he keeps for a single human being.  
"These men are going down in history, trust me, John."  
He never gave him permission to call him by his given name.  
"And myself too of course."  
Yes, as the biggest traitor and moron the world has ever known. A bigger traitor than Judas himself. As the man who was willing to sell his soldiers to the enemy for a few coins.  
"Simple soldiers are nothing without a skillful hand, leading them."  
No. Great leaders inspire greatness in others. He knows the legacy of his father, his rules of conduct, still word for word, he could write them down asleep, and with these never leaving his mind, Arnold´s behaviour makes him simply speechless.  
He could strangle him right now with his own cravat, but juridically, being just annoyed by stupidity isn´t an act of self defense.  
He tears his gaze off and towards the drink, he holds in his hand. "The same skillful hand that taught them how to shoot temself in their own leg? Hasn´t it recently happened to one of your spy hunting soldiers, Benedict?" This time speaking his name sounds more like the display of bared teeth of a predator that found its prey. He sees how the General takes a deep breath while he pours down the small drink in one go.  
"A minor accident. Can happen to everyone. It teaches others to not be as clumsy."  
"I would rather say it prooves that they are not married to Brown Bess, no professional soldiers, but a bunch of clumsy farmers."  
"Just like your Rangers had been."  
"They never were clumsy farmers." He lifts his gaze. Blue ice piercing trough the General. "They only lacked of discipline. They were already experienced soldiers, they just needed to be taught to be human beings again."  
"See, John... there is the difference between us."  
There is more just a difference and more than just one thing, he thinks, feeling insulted that Arnold might think the only difference between them might be their style of commanding.  
"You think they need to be human beings to become perfect soldiers. While I think they should listen to the once with experience and not putting us at question."  
"You know, Benedict," he smiles, showing perfect teeth. A smile, the most charming way to show your enemy your teeth, he had heard once. "A wise leader knows when to follow."  
He chuckles.  
The urge to punch all those teeth out is rising within the Colonel.  
"Seems like you rather follow your wife, John."  
"Well... what can I say? She is one of those kind that are worth to follow." To ease the situation, he can´t kill him now and if the General keeps a deep grudge for him there is no way of coming this close to him again, he continues. "And how could I have a splendid view onto her delicious backside when not following her?"  
Another laugh.  
To his luck, Elizabeth is entering again, closely followed by her friend. She drops onto the chair next to him, clinging to his arm and with a lovely pout she leans her head against his shoulder, looking up to him. "I am so tired and exhausted, my love, I never thought it would be so late by now."  
"Are you asking me to go home," he smiles softly down at her.  
She nods, giving him a kiss onto the cheek. "Please... of course only when I don´t interrupt your merry talk?"  
He turns his gaze at said General. "I guess we were finished anyways, my dear." He can make out a flash of jealousy in the Generals face as he receives another kiss onto his cheek. This time not for the splendid leader he is, how effortlessly he commands his Rangers or how obedient they are to him, the respect he gets. But jealousy of a wife that adores him, the admiration in her eyes when she looks at him, little signs of affection. He enjoys it. He turns to his wife again, a kiss on the lips and not caring for the grunt their mutual friend receives from the allegedly Lord of the house. "Your wish is my command, my moon and stars," he smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Great leaders inspire greatness in others"  
> "A wise leader knows when to follow" - Both are quotes from the Series "Star Wars - The Clone Wars"
> 
> Francis Drake...  
> ...was a vice admiral and pirate under Elizabeth I. He was the one defeating the spanish armada in 1588.
> 
> John Churchill...  
> 1\. Duke of Marlborough was a statesman, soldier, commander in chief and master general, a master tactican and despite his high ambition for wealth and sometimes brutal ways he brought the Empire many victories and played a significant role during the War of the Spanish Succession. (1650-1722)
> 
> Wallenstein...  
> ...(1583-1634) was an austrian commander and politician during the Thirty Years´ War and played an important role. He´s on the list of the ´most famous, always aspiring to following, commanding officers and commanders in chief of Austria`. He became immortal through the german writer and poet Friedrich Schiller and his play "Wallenstein".
> 
> Brown Bess - the ordinary musket of the British Army.


	9. Chapter 9

She walks down the streets on the way to her friend. Not only because her husband attends there a meeting with a few other commanders and not only for the sake of visiting her friend alone, but also to get to know if their plan starts to work out after three days and the first symptoms are visible at the General. If the poison has the wished affect or none at all and they might rethink their choice of how to kill the General.  
Wearing her favourite dress, only perfect with the black leather gloves and the black tricorn with white feathers and the riding crop, one may never know when in need of a riding crop, she enjoys the looks she gets, enjoying the hushed whispers that are exchanged when she passed, sometimes an unbelievable shake of the head. She is proud to receive these. These are telling her that she´s doing it right. Building up a reputation. By now, when she walks past the streets of York City in her favourite dress, everybody knows that she is Mrs. Elizabeth Simcoe. Only the wife of Colonel Simcoe is bold enough to wear the Colonel´s uniform as a riding habit. The last time she heard how someone said she might be the additional man of the Queen´s Rangers. She had to grin and holding her chin a tiny bit up higher than usual.  
What her husband might say, she was asked once. He is proud. He loves it. Showing it only her adoration towards him, that she is just as dedicated to his work as he is, that she is proud of him and supports him through all conditions of life. That she is equal to him and whoever wants to become his acquaintance is getting her for free too. In this marriage they are equal partners and no slave and master. They abolished slavery in the colonies, so why keep treating their own wives like some?  
It´s the heritage of her family, the military. Just like his. She is the one he talks to at home about tactics for ambushing the continentals. She knows what he talks about when he says Howitzer, Mortar, 16-pounder or 6-pounder. Knows very well the difference between a Musket and a Flintlock, knows what the Brown Bess is. Knows the difference between a squadron and a bataillon. Whom else should he talk to at home? The wall or the chair? Ridiculous. Silly, stupid people. She can enlighten him when he´s too stuck into a plan, she can give him a second opinion, she thinks of things he might overlook. What do they think Cleopatra was doing? Those silly people think because of her gender, she is as silly and stupid as they are? Where would their glorious country be now without Elizabeth I. on the English throne or Eleanor of Aquitaine? Boudicca even managed it to kill roman soldiers and win battles, a woman against trained, better weaponized and disciplined soldiers of the greatest army the world ever knew. Never underestimate a woman, he would say, and most of all, never underestimate the daughter of a military leader. History proofed that is can end deadly to underestimate a woman.  
"Good day, Abigail," Elizabeth smiles widely as said woman opened the door after it was knocked against it.  
"Good day, Milady." Stepping aside, she lets the wife of the Colonel in, closing the door again.  
"I assume right that my husband is still with the others and I guess it´s the drawing room?"  
"Yes, Milady but they are still..." She can´t even finish the sentence so fast does the lady turn around and heading with determined steps to the drawing room. Well, she sighs, better she gets her mistress down here.  
"News say that Rebels rot together in Guilford Country in North Carolina."  
"We´ll come to aid to Cornwallis when he calls us, not sooner, not later. We should concentrate to keep York City safe and free from rebels. I entrust you completely with this task, Colonel. You´re the right man for it."  
"Thank you, Sir. I appreciate the trust you put into my person."  
"How could I not after Monmouth," winks the General in charge.  
"Sir," the other General is clearing his voice, "I would like to lead my troops to Portsmouth."  
"Haven´t they just managed a long march, General?"  
"Excuse me, Colonel?"  
"Maybe you should give your men a rest? Only a rested soldier is a good soldier. Only a rested soldier will keep his eyes open to any threat possible."  
Once more he has the insolence to laugh. "Is this really Colonel John Graves Simcoe in front of me? You? Advising me my men to rest?"  
He wanted to reply, seeing from the corner of his eyes how General Clinton is eyeing both of them, the subliminal battle they fight, as a most beloved voice is rising in his back.  
"I guess I am the right one to find out if this fine gentleman is indeed our beloved Colonel."  
With a wide smile he turns around. She takes his chin between her fingers, turning his head from side to the other and inspecting him. Looking up and down, putting a hand onto his chest, gliding down his waistcoat and around his waist, well hidden by his coat also somewhere else.  
"Yes, he is indeed Colonel John Graves Simcoe, I can assure you this," she grins.  
"Ah, the reservist of the Queen's Rangers has arrived, I see. Welcome, Mrs. Colonel Simcoe." General Clinton smirks, bowing his head.  
"Good day, General," she replies with a lovely smile and a small curtsey. The other one receives only a simple "General" and is getting also a simple "Mrs. Simcoe" as a greeting.  
"My love, despite how much I like it to have you at my side, but I am sure you didn´t come here to attend our discussion about the current state of our troops."  
"Like always you are right, my dear. I wanted, next to my dear husband, to visit my also dear friend. But how can I pass without at least giving my dearest husband a sweet hello? Hello," she grins and going onto tiptoes to give him a kiss onto his cheek. She hears the footsteps from the stairway, knowing that Abigail is helping her friend down these right now. "But when you´ll excuse me know, Gentleman, I have to see the lady of the house now."  
"You are always excused, Mrs. Colonel Simcoe."  
"Thank you, General Clinton, Sir." With a last squeeze of the hand her husband releases her hand and she can still feel all their gazes resting on her back as she leaves the drawing room.  
"You must consider yourself the luckiest man in York City, Colonel."  
"Thank you, General, but I go so far to call myself the luckiest man alive even," he smiles.  
"Keep her entertained, Colonel. This kind of woman is not going for the plain life of a simple wife. But I guess that won´t be the problem with someone like you."  
"I see it as a compliment, Sir."  
"In this matter, it is one. And Arnold... You stay in York City until asked otherwise."  
"Yes... Sir."  
  
"You need to come over for a few days, my dear."  
"You only say so because your evenings are so very boring and lonely since John is regularly patrolling."  
"Hmm... maybe a little, but also because I want to spend more time with my dearest friend. Thinking in a few months you have someone else giving your whole attention." She leans in more. "And I also want you to get away from him every time it´s possible. By the way... how is it going?"  
"He tries to keep his facial expressions controlled," answers Abigail with putting a plate with sweets in front of these two, "but he is in pain and he ate less that last two days."  
"Last night he had a restless sleep," continues Peggy.  
In excitement Lizzie is clapping her hands. "It´s working! When it continues to go so well then I assume that there is going to be a funeral in less than a month. I already know of the right man for you, my dear. John considers him a friend, he is a charming gentleman, currently with his troops under the command of General Cornwallis, just like John, he commands his own legion and he´s not even close to thirty."  
She has to chuckle by her friend already thinking of matching her up. "Have at least you met already this gentleman or are you trying to get me hooked up with a complete stranger?"  
"Oh, I did indeed. John worked with him together a few times, during a few campaigns in the last years before he went with Lord Cornwallis to South Carolina. Don´t get irritated because he´s called 'the Butcher', see, they also call my John a madman."  
"The Butcher?"  
Elizabeth makes a waving gesture with her hand. "Oh, silly civilian talk. I mean... it´s a war, right? Now... will you come over for a few days?"  
"Let us wait maybe... three more days, when it is visible that he is maybe sick, then I can excuse myself that in my current state it would be unwise for the child to stay near him."  
"That´s good! Three more days, my dear."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howitzer, Mortar, 16-pounder and 6-pounder are all types of canons that were used in the Revolutionary War.
> 
> 'The Butcher' is Colonel Banastre Tarleton, commanding officer of the 1st Dragoon Guards and he indeed worked a few times together with Simcoe (wearing also a dashing green uniform) on different campaigns. The dashing Colonel Tavington, played by Jason Isaacs, in Roland Emmerichs/Mel Gibsons 'The Patriot' is lousy basing on Tarleton.


	10. Chapter 10

He shoves the small green and red blocks around until he is satisfied and they perfectly represent his tactical plan on the map that is spread in front of him onto the table. That´s how they are going to block the delivery of supplies for to the enemy. Let´s see how long they can go on without flour.  
" _Veni, vidi, vici_ ," he looks up, smiling bright at his superior officer, " _et stultus es_." It satisfies him that Arnold can´t speak a single word Latin and so may never know that he has just been called stupid.  
With knitted brows he looks in question at the Colonel, bending over the table, not because of interest on the map but of pain. For days he lives with cramps that won´t leave him any other choice but to stand and walk always slightly bend. Even a deep breath isn´t possible without jerking in pain. Must have caught a sickness. He doubts it´s the food or drink. Peggy ate and drank the same and she´s perfectly fine. Maybe while inspecting his troops... He should order the men to clean the barracks more often. Simcoe's Rangers always seem to be fine and perfect in everything. How much he hates them. And now this gibberish. How much he would like to punch that grin off of his face... Carefully he takes a deep breath. "What...?"  
"Oh, I'm sorry... just something a great Roman Military leader used to say when he won another victory."  
"Sure," he murmurs, taking out a handkerchief and wiping his forehead.  
"You seem to be unwell, General. We can end this here and continue another time."  
"It´s nothing," he makes a waving gesture with his hand, "just a small indigestion..."  
"When you say so... Nevertheless, that´s how we are doing it. My men will hide here, here and here. With the information we have, and your men positioned here, it will be an easy task to catch off their supplies. No flour, no bread and without bread they are going to hunger, _bliteus belua es_."  
"Another thing that this great roman commander said?"  
"On a daily basis," smiles Simcoe. Insulting him in Latin makes it way easier for him to work with this incompetent idiot together. He turns his gaze to the door with a 'Where are you going' by Arnold.  
"I´ve told you. Yesterday. And the day before. And the day before the day before. And today at breakfast too, _Benedict_. I´ll visit Lizzie, good day John," "Good day, Mrs. Arnold." "for a few days." Peggy stands in the doorway, Abigail putting the cape around her shoulders and two trunks are carried into the hallway with her necessary belongings.  
"Oh, Lizzie, of course, did you know of this, John?"  
"I did, Benedict. I gave my permission, though my wife doesn´t need my permission for anything. Mrs. Arnold is always a welcomed guest in our house," he smiles and bows his head at Peggy who returns that smile with a small curtsy.  
"You just had been bothering them..."  
"Benedict... you are clearly not well. Whatever bothers your health, I don´t want to put our child at risk. I am sure you understand my concern?"  
The General lets his eyes wandering over his wife, grumbles lowly. Of course he wants a healthy son. He doesn´t care this much about Peggy anymore. But for a good and healthy son, she needs to stay well too, and therefore far away from sickness and disease.  
"Also I am sure you prefer it to think over your... military things in peace without me having Lizzi over and talking about female things and the preparation of the birth or the latest fashionable colours for the interior design for the rooms of an infant."  
The door to the house is opened, someone is being let it and Peggy turns her glance away shortly to the introduder, smiles and turns to her husband once more. "And Lizzie wanted to show me the latest poem John wrote for her." Another thing she likes to rub in his face.  
"Poetry?" With sceptism the General looks at the Colonel. "You really write poetry, John?"  
"Yes," he knows that it´s for some hard to believe that someone like he writes love poems, "in the spare time I am not occupied by my duties as Colonel, I do so. You know, Benedict, in medieval times, a knight was only a true knight who practiced himself in the art of Minne. A form of lyric where the author wrote mostly from the female point of view." In that moment he saw her appearing next to Peggy, there to pick her up and asking her if she would be ready. "And she is just too much of an inspiration to not do so," he smiles.  
"Hello, my love."  
"My dear..."  
"Really," chuckles Arnold. "Why not giving us an example of the great poet Colonel Simcoe?"  
Words are not needed that Elizabeth steps forwards and putting her hand into her husband's with a soft expression on her face, adoration speaking from her eyes.  
He lifts her hand to his lips, kissing the back of the delicate fingers before raising his voice.  
" _Fire kissed her hair, Her skin the stars. Oh, what are we for a lovely pair, Just like Venus and Mars. My salvation, my divine absolution. To your feet I lie down in devotion. Your heart filled with the cruelty of a goddess; 'I love you' I must confess. With wrath and fury in her heart, Merciless and vengeful like a Celtic Queen, She makes the whole world fall apart. Yet she brings beauty to the scene. She is Cleopatra, She is Livia and Agrippina, She is Boudicca and Eleanor, She is Elizabeth, She burns down kingdoms and slays men, Yet you will say 'I love you' even then_ ," he breathes, his eyes never leaving hers through the whole time.  
She steps closer, going on her tiptoes and kissing him. "I love it. And I love you."  
He laughs lowly. "Thank you for adding this."  
"That was wonderful, John! Lizzie is blessed with you."  
"You have no idea how blessed I am really," giggles Elizabeth.  
"I admit... I am surprised."  
"Thank you, Sir. _Te luppiter dique omnes perdant_ , like they say."  
"Are you finished, do you come with us?"  
"Not yet, my love. Go ahead, I am sure I´ll be home when it´s time for tea."  
"I hope so, I don´t want to wait too long for you, my dear."  
"I have to ask you for something, Mrs. Arnold."  
"And this might be?"  
"Distract my humble wife until I step through the door."  
Peggy laughs shortly. "I´ll try my best, I promise."  
The General looks from one to the other. He knows that the feeling that crawls up within him when he looks at the Colonel is commonly called as jealousy. He sacrificed himself, he put his honour and reputation at risk to change sides and what was his reward? And here is the Colonel with a certain reputation to kill first and ask later, with a not always controlled temper, to be known as unnecessary brutal and yet he is respected by his men and has a wife that adores him... Another cramp is distracting him from his thoughts. Should she go for a few days. Maybe it's even the stress with her around him that gives him that indigestion...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Veni, vidi, vici - I came, I saw, I conquered  
> Et stultus es - you are stupid  
> bliteus belua es - You´re a beastly idiot  
> te luppiter dique omnes perdat - Juppiter and all the gods damn you
> 
> Cleopatra VII - The last Pharao of ancient egypt, wife of Gaius Julius Cäsar and Marc Anthony.  
> Livia (Livia Drusilla) - Wife of Emperor Augustus, wore after his death as first female roman the royal title Augusta and was anounced as Goddess by her grandson Emperor Claudius.  
> Agrippina the Younger - Wife of Emperor Claudius and mother of Emperor Nero.  
> Boudicca - A Celtic Queen the Romans pissed off and she lead a revolt against them.  
> Eleanor - First wife of the French King, divorced, and then became wife of the English King. This is called to be one reason for the hundret years war. Mostly also because England demanded former territories of Eleanor in Frane to go over into english possession. (Henry V).  
> Elizabeth - Queen Elizabeth I.
> 
> The poem is my own. I am very sorry, I 1: suck at poetry and 2: especially I can´t do 18th century poetry, please be patient with me.


	11. Chapter 11

It feels as if she could take a deep breath after almost drowning as Peggy steps through the door of the Simcoes. It feels like relief. To be away from her husband, at least for a few days. But even if it only be for a few days she will cherish these anyway. Finally she will sleep in peace again with the knowledge that her husband won´t rest next to her. Won´t sit opposite of her with dinner. Won´t lure in the house when she´s around. Won´t feel his eyes lingering on her.  
She will be surrounded by friends for a few days. True friends. Friends that are willing to plan and commit the murder of the cause of her almost constant nervous state.  
"Do you need anything more?"  
Friends that care for her. "Oh no, you did already way too much." First the hot bath, to relax, Lizzie said, to let her forget the horrible husband and bring her mind to more joyful things, with a hot chocolate and strawberries. Then she offered to let her bed heating up, the whole room indeed. She lets her favourite dish and dessert be prepared for dinner and she told her that she already called in her hairdresser for the next day.  
"There is nothing I wouldn´t do for my loved ones," smiles Elizabeth and helps Peggy to get into the tub. "The only thing you´ll have to do here is to take care of yourself and you start with it by relaxing now and enjoying the hot bath. I´ll be right back."  
She leans back and a sigh slips her lips. The hot water and the herbs that were put into it did help her, she could feel how it´s relaxing her muscles and bones, her back that aches more and more through the weight she carries around in front of her.  
  
Elizabeth heads down the stairs to catch a book from their writing cabinet she kept well hidden amongst novels like 'Pamela' and 'Moll Flanders', knowing very well that her dear husband would never touch these. And thinking of her dear husband, she hears the door to the house opens and someone stepping in. Sometimes, in moments like these, she thinks it could be possible of her being a witch as she recognises her dear husband's steps. Strong, determined and yet somehow soft, gentleman like.  
Hiding the book behind her back she goes to the entry hall, a wide smile plastered over her face as she sees that it is indeed her dear husband who just entered. "Welcome home, my love."  
He had enough time to put his hat aside and pulling off his gloves before two arms were wrapped around his neck and a warm, soft body pressed against his, a well known pair of lips sealing his'. That´s how he always imagined it. How he imagined to return home. A loving wife, Lizzie to be specific, throwing herself into his arms and welcoming him home with a tight embrace and a sweet kiss. Either he is unable to understand his comrades and colleagues or he was just simply lucky that he has no reason at all to brag about marriage and a wife but contrary to it, to enjoy and praise both. "My Moon and Stars," he grins as she lets go of him again. His eyes not missing that she hides a small volume behind her back.  
"You´re already back? I thought Arnold would occupy you until the late evening?"  
"Luckily he was annoyed by me throwing around Latin phrases."  
"You mean insults," she grins. "Don´t look at me like that, this little bit of Latin I do understand. Your luck that he doesn´t know a single word of Latin." She strokes the coat off his shoulders and handing it to Mary-Ann who is already waiting for it.  
"Luckily yes... Where is Peggy?" He loosens his cravat, opening the first two buttons of his waistcoat and rolling up his sleeves.  
"Upstairs, I let a hot bath be prepared for her to relaxe finally."'  
"Good, she needs to be relaxed for the news I bring with me."  
She hesitates shortly and accompanies him to the writing cabinet. "Good or bad news?"  
"We need to think of something different than poison. He told me as we finished the briefing that he felt sick for some time now, but the medicine one of our surgeons gave him helps him. It seems this medicine is working against the savin."  
"But he couldn´t detect that it was a poison?"  
"Obviously not."  
She takes a breath of relief. "What are you looking for," she asks while watching him searching through the shelfs. "Law... I am sure there is somewhere a legal way to get rid of him without spilling any blood."  
"You disappoint me."  
He half way turns around to her, a smirk on his lips. "Well..." He steps closer to her and with the swift move of a soldier trained in close combat and he tears out of her hand what she was trying to hide behind her back the whole time. "I am surely won´t find a way in..." He starts to read the letters on the front cover. "Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure?" He raises a brow and looking down onto her, her cheeks blushing, and continues with a sly smile. "Married for almost a year only and you have already written your memoirs about our marriage."  
"John, give it back. Now."  
"Oh, why should I? It sounds interesting." He holds the book high enough that she can´t reach it, what she desperately tries to do. But damn it! He is way too tall!  
"It´s not of interest for you, I can assure you. It´s boring. It´s very, very boring. It´s for Peggy!"  
"Oh, for Peggy, let´s see, I guess there is probably a chapter about two very close and young friends experiencing..."  
"John! I told you...! John!... John, we have apples in this house and I will use them."  
He hesitates and closes the book again, handing it back, but holding the grip tight and bending down to her, whispering into her ear. "When you finished reading it to Peggy, maybe you can read it to me."  
She mirrors his grins as the yanked the book away and hitting him once playfully with it on his chest. "Behave and play nice and we´ll see about it."  
He chuckles lowly. "My love... I know very well that you don´t like me behaving and playing nice," he smirks.  
"I bet you can´t any other way."  
"You challenge me?"  
Quickly she puts a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "I am eager to know what for a good boy you can be." With a crooked smile she turns her back to him and making her way upstairs.  
  
"When he saw this, his breeches were immediately loosen'd, waist and knee bands, and slipped over his ankles, clean off; his shirt collar was unbuttoned too..."  
"Elizabeth!" Peggy put down the cup with the hot chocolate, fearing to choke on it, but giggles as she does so at the same time.  
Without being irritated Lizzie continues to read aloud. "... then, first giving Polly an encouraging kiss, he stole, as it were, the shift off the girl, who being, I suppose, broke and familiariz'd to this humour, blush'd indeed..."  
"Lizzie..."  
"Wait, there is more to come."  
"I don´t doubt that."  
Both are giggling now.  
"Does John even know what for books you have and what you are reading?"  
"He does... I failed to sneak this one here out of the writing cabinet," she shrugs with her shoulders. "But I guess soldiers exchange and trade more filthy papers than this one here."  
"I don´t want to imagine..."  
"They lack of any style, art, sensibility..." Still she closes the book and puts it aside. "Anyway, we prepare now for dinner, I´ll too go for my dressing gown. John doesn´t care for fashion anyway and it´s only the three of us."  
"Be careful to dress properly," her close friend smirks, "or your beauty is praised by poems again."  
Lowly she laughs and helping her friend to leave the tub and to dry, changing into something comfortable and her dressing gown, without the cage of stays.  
"I wouldn´t mind, I guess I am going to provoke it for tonight."  
"As far as I know John you don´t even need to provoke it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contrary to popular belief, the young generation towards the end of the 18th century did belief in the cure of hot bathes. The upper class did hot bathes to cure and get well while the lower class rather tended to cold bathes to toughen up.
> 
> 'Pamela, or Virtue rewarded' was punlished by Samual Richardson in 1740.  
> 'Moll Flanders' was published 1722 by Daniel Defoe.  
> 'Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure' Or shortly 'Fanny Hill' was written and published by John Cleland in 1748 and is one of the first works of pornographic prose.


	12. Chapter 12

"Hopefully he won´t study law after the war, it would be a pity when you would need to become jealous of some books."  
Lizzie giggles softly. At the dinner the two women witnessing the Lord of the House who pays the few books about the laws he possesses more attention than the actual dinner or his own wife. Despite that he was first curious and then delighted that said wife, just like their mutual friend, just simply dressed very casually in her dressing gown. That´s fashion he can handle and spares him later that night to be defeated by ridiculous complicated female fashion. And it was also the reason why he dismissed his waistcoat and the cravat.  
"I guess that won´t happen," she smiles. "He is a supreme commander through and through. Right, my dear? John? John!"  
Torn out of his thoughts he looks up, a mixture of confusion and question on his face, not understanding why the women in front of him giggling right now. "Yes, my love?"  
"Don´t forget your dinner over your law studies," Elizabeth smirks.  
He takes a bite and turns his eyes to the book again, browsing through a few pages.  
Peggy was shocked and relieved at once as her friend told her that poison had failed them. Shock that it did fail, but reliefed that neither Arnold nor the surgeon had any idea that it was a poison and not an unwell stomach who gave him pain. And now a guilty feeling washes over her. Guilt that their friends do so much to her, really trying to kill off her husband, that John is now more busy with books, though she is thankful that he thought immediately of a different way to get rid of her husband, than with his wife, how it usually should be. Through Lizzie, she knows very well that Mr. and Mrs. Simcoe preferably are busy with each other in the evening.  
Tears are coming up her eyes and before she can stop it she is sobbing uncontrollably. She blames the highly emotional state onto the pregnancy.  
"My dear, are you alright?"  
Immediately she feels her friend's arm around her shoulders.  
"Peggy, darling... are you in pain," Elizabeth asks in worry, ready to jump up and to order her maid to call for a doctor or midwife, whoever can be here at first, despite that she knows it´s too early for her beloved friend to give birth.  
"I am sorry," sobs Peggy, hiding her face behind a napkin.  
Once more in confusion Mr. Simcoe looks up by the sudden outburst of tears and misinterpreting it. He goes around the table, sitting down on the other side of her and taking her hand between his. "Don´t you fret, dear Peggy. Beautiful women should never waste tears of sorrow. Hate and joy, yes. But not for sorrow. I am very sure that I´ll find a way to make Arnold perish without compromising any of us. The poison failed, but Emperor Nero's first attempt to kill his mother failed too and he only succeeded by a second time. You see, not all is lost."  
Peggy looks up. Utterly... disturbed would describe her expression best. "Thank... you?" At least she stopped crying now.  
"My pleasure," he smiles gently.  
"John," Elizabeth scolds him softly.  
"What," he whispers and shrugs with his shoulders.  
"It´s clearly not the right time to lecture about ancient romans trying to kill their own mother..."  
"It´s alright, Lizzie," she snuffles once, wiping the tears off her face. "I get what he was trying to say... Thank you. Both of you. I am just... I´m sorry. You do so much for me, without thinking you admitted to putting Benedict six feet under..."  
"You still wonder," smiles Lizzie, putting her other hand onto her friend's arm. "We´re your friends. We´re true friends. That´s what friends are doing."  
"Plotting the murder of a General?"  
"Well... sometimes."  
"We are not plotting to murder a General," John says, "we are simply, loyal and righteous citiziens of our King and trying to detect the foul apple amongst the harvest," he winks and grins with self confidence as Peggy laughs again. "Listen, if you want to do something... I need a list of all of Arnolds trading partners."  
"Alright, I..."  
"We send Mary-Ann over, she sould collect something for you and can deliver the message to Abigail."  
"But why..." Now it dawns onto her. "If anyone of them is a patriot or has links to patriots..." The grins he flashes when he highly enjoys something could scare some but she got used to it by now.  
"Him abandoning our supplies to make space for his own goods are a at the most mild sabotaging but nothing that could bring him to shake a cloth in the wind. But when he is trading with the enemy, we can bring him to the gallows for high treason, and maybe, possibly espionage, whatever I can drag out of him..."  
Peggy is sure he can make him even confessing witchcraft and doesn´t want to think about how he might bring him to confess.  
"I´ll make sure that there won´t be a way to sell him back to Washington. He will hang."

"I, smiling in his face, took the letter, and immediately catching hold of his shirt sleeve, drew him towards me, blushing, and almost trembling; for surely his extreme bashfulness, and utter inexperience called for, at least, all the advances to encourage him: - You are really going for high treason now?"  
"Yes. Go on." He stripped off his clothes and put on his nightshirt, immediately slipping underneath the blanket to join his wife.  
"his body was now conveniently inclined toward me, and just softly chucking his beardless chin, I asked him: "If he was afraid of a lady?..." and with that took, and carrying his hands to my breasts, I press it tenderly to them. - How exactly are you trying to do it?"  
"Trading with enemy nations, and pirates, are an act of high treason. When I get the list of his trading partners I can do my researches and I am sure there someone with a link to the patriots. Or maybe pirates. Could you please continue, my love? You stopped exactly when it turned to be interesting."  
She chuckles shortly before turning her eyes onto the book in her hands. "They were now finely furnished, and raised in flesh, so that, panting with desire, they rose and fell, in quick heaves, under his touch: at this, the boy's eyes began to lighten with all the fires of inflamed nature, and his cheeks flushed with a deep scarlet: - You said pirates?"  
He was already close to her, looking over her shoulder to catch a glimpse at the book before spreading little, soft kisses over her neck and one of his hands following the actions she just read aloud. He sighs and rolls with his eyes. "Sugar, Salt, Tabacoo, are all goods of high worth for pirates and if you´re trading with pirates, Arnold is a greedy moron after all, you spare yourself to pay taxes."  
"Oh! I see... It´s a theory, not that far off..."  
"Hmhm... would you please continue?"  
She clears her voice. "... tongue-tied with joy, rapture, and bashfulness, he could not speak, but then his looks, his emotion, sufficiently satisfied me that my train had taken, and that I had no disappointment to fear." She stops herself for a small giggle as he teases a little spot on her neck. "My lips, which I threw in his way, so that he could not escape kissing them, fixed, fired, and emboldened him: - And you are absolutely sure that he won´t be sold, labeled twice as traitor, back to Washington for getting their biggest traitor back to bring him down to justice?"  
He groans in frustration. "No... He will be hanged for high treason. Here. In Public. With committing high treason towards the King there is no way that he will ever be sold over to Washington."  
"I just want to be sure... and now, glancing my eyes towards that part of his dress which covered the essential object of enjoyment, I plainly discovered the swell and commotion there; and as I was now too far advanced to stop in so fair a way, and was indeed no longer able to contain myself, or wait the slower progress of his maiden bash-fulness (for such it seemed, and really was)." Still with the book in her hands he brought her slowly to lay back a little more, crawling over her while his lips are busy with her neck and his hands fumbling with the hem of her nightgown. "I stole my hands upon his thighs, down one of which I could both see and feel a stiff hard body, confined by his breeches, that my fingers could discover no end to. Curious then, and eager to unfold so alarming a mystery, playing, as it were, with his buttons, which were bursting ripe from the active force within, those of his waistband and fore-flap flew open at a touch, when out IT started..."  
"You have more of this," he murmurs against her skin.  
"A few," she giggles.  
"I´ll get you more," he breathes. Shortly he lets go of her to get rid of his own nightshirt.  
"and now, disengaged from the shirt, I saw, with wonder and surprise, what? not the play thing of a boy, not the weapon of a man, but a Maypole, of so enormous a standard, that had proportions been observed, it must have belonged to a young giant." She couldn´t hold back and starts to laugh, even as he is back on top of her. "Yet I could not, without pleasure, behold, and even venture to feel, such a length, such a breadth of animated ivory," she continued with small giggles until he makes her shutting up with his own kiss. With delight, she lets the book slipping out of her hands and putting them somewhere more comfortable, his neck, and returning the kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shaking a cloth in the wind - is 18th century slang and means to be hanged
> 
> Emperor Nero did tried to kill his own mother first by drowning but that failed so he simply stabbed her...
> 
> Trading with enemy countries and/or Pirates was an act of high treason after british law for centuries and was punished with death.
> 
> The extract Elizabeth is reading are once more taken from "Fanny Hill".


	13. Chapter 13

Abigail admits that she is indeed a little bit surprised that she sees the maid of Mrs. Simcoe in front of her as she opened the door after it was knocked against it.  
"Good day. Mrs. Arnold is in desperate need of her favourite pair of shoes."  
"The General isn´t home." She lets the maid in and closes the door.  
"Mrs. Arnold is not in desperate need of her favourite pair of shoes."  
"But...?"  
"Colonel Simcoe needs a list of all trading partners of Mr. Arnold."  
"For the poison failed," sighs Abigail. That´s what she gives the Colonel credit for, he obviously has immediately something new in mind and is determined to succeed.   
"Exactly."  
She signs the maid to follow her and leads the way to the writing cabinet, stopping at the General's desk. With swift fingers, as if she would have done it already a few times, Abigail takes specific papers and a book out of the stack resting on the desk's surface. She makes use of the blank papers and the quill on the desk and copies right away names. Finished, she put everything back where it belongs. The General doesn´t pay much attention anyway to his surroundings. She bets he doesn´t even know the colour of the upholstery of his chair... "These are all his trading partners. I can´t tell whom of them is a patriot or not."  
"The Colonel will do so. Thank you." Mary-Ann takes the paper and neatly folds it, hiding it in her sleeve. "He is very determined to bring the General to the gallows."  
"I have no doubts on that," murmurs Abigail.  
"What have you done with the remaining... elixir?"  
"I emptied the bottle into the flower beds. No traces left behind."  
"Mr. Simcoe will be pleased to hear that."  
She is curious, yes, she admits it. But the question is burning inside of her. "I wonder how one might work for someone like Simcoe willingly."  
"Just as how someone can work willingly for Mr. Arnold. And it´s Mr. Simcoe, also I am working for Mrs. Simcoe, not Mr. Simcoe. He just happened to make my mistress happy. Sadly, by all, yes," she sighs. "Tell me, Miss Abigail, wouldn´t you do everything for the happiness of your mistress?... You hesitate," Mary-Ann states after a few seconds of silence.  
"Of course I do. Mrs. Arnold was always generous and kind to me, she tried her best to beware my son from being dragged into the service of Mr. Arnold..."  
"You say it. You have a son. Wouldn´t you rather do everything for the sake of your son instead for your mistress?"  
"Wouldn´t you?"  
"I don´t have any children. I only serve my mistress and her happiness and welfare are my priority. And this includes now also serving Mr. Simcoe. Yet, if he would harm her, I wouldn´t hesitate to kill him."  
Well... at least she is focused and determined. Something all in the Simcoe household obviously have in common.

With the knock against the wood of the open door, he looks shortly up from the papers and letters he has to sign and to answer. Who thinks a man in his position would only patrolling around to show off his good looks is utterly wrong. "Mary-Ann, you´re back. You may come in."  
Reaching the writing desk, she hands the master of the house the list that was given to her.  
"Ah, the list I was asking for," he smiles after unfolding the paper. "Thank you, Mary-Ann, you are dismissed."  
"May I speak openly, Sir?"  
"You may." He puts the paper down and leans back, signing the maid of his wife to sit down.  
"I don´t think that Miss Abigail can be trusted."  
"What leads you to assume that?"  
"She didn´t hesitated as I asked her for the names and it seemed like she did it already once. She didn´t need to search through the papers of the General. It was a suspicious behaviour in my eyes. She also hesitated as I asked her if she wouldn´t do everything for the sake of her mistress."  
"Well, not everyone is as dedicated as you are, Mary-Ann."  
"She has a child. That alone is a hazard factor in my eyes."  
He takes a moment to think about what the maid said. A child for sure is always a risk factor. A mother would always do everything for her child. He includes himself and Lizzie too when they will be blessed one day. He also remembers Abigail to have been once in the service of Anna Strong. He remembers also how Akinbode once told him confidentially, with her in the service of André, that he is glad and reassured that she is out of the reach of Mrs. Strong, suspicious that she had a bad influence on her. But.. what if she never was out of her reach? What if... it is indeed very suspicious that the so called patriots had knowledge about their ambushes only one within the military could have known... or working for someone in it with access to his writings or eavesdropping his meetings and dinners. "Thank you for sharing your concerns with me, Mary-Ann. I will think about Ms. Abigail and her suspicious behaviour," he nods. No, really. He is thankful, knowing that she despises him and still telling him of the strange actions of the other one.   
He dismisses her, making a mental note to ask Akinbode about Ms. Abigail and her allegiance to Mrs. Strong and also Peggy if she ever witnessed a strange behaviour of her maid, caught her in searching through desks and sensitive papers or even caught her son doing so.   
Now with the list of all trading partners of Arnold he can do his researches. None of the names he reads are known to him. If he will dig deep enough, he will find something or someone that brings the General into deep trouble and if not... everybody is venally. Everyone has his price.


End file.
